Fenrir
by owlcreek
Summary: Taking place three days after Thor 3, this story follows Fenrir, Loki's son who was born as a wolf man. Odin is deeply ashamed of the family secret and has kept Fenrir locked away under the palace for 20 years. Upon learning of his father's death, he begins to question his role in the family while recalling conflicted memories and diving into the darker side of the House of Odin.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

He started running just as the rain began trickling from a cryptic sky. War drums began pounding away at a distance and the wind howled and hissed while he left the palace and entered the woods.

The lighting flashed through the small cracks between each tree creating a brief moment of sight in the shadows. He decided to continue south with his eyes taking rest and his snout pick up the lost sense.

The wind became harsher and shoved him back a few paces, but he only winced at the frigid temperature and continued on. The scent of fresh rain began to blend with the scent he was desperately trying to hold onto. He gradually let the wailing forest around him vanish and kept his senses alert. Soon the drumming fell on deaf ears and the rain became paralyzed.

The wind shifted just slightly in his favor. He could distinguish the new aroma from the musty water. It was close, very close. His ears perked up intently for the confirmation. He listened to the victim's faint breath escaping and entering his body like a soft whimper.

When opened his eyes, time was allowed to continue on. The rain began dripping and the drumming gained memento. One streak of light provided him with a brief look at his path before departing. He began to run.

He cut through the bushes and onto an untamed road full of low branches and thorns. The debris began eating away at his feet, drawing humid blood with every step. He winced at the pain, but he never held enough control to stop himself once he had locked on.

The victim's scent steadily became heavier while he moved through the jagged path. Once light appeared and stung the dirt, he rushed through the thicket and into a clearing.

He could hear the soft bubbling of a spring. The waterfall gently splashed into the pool while insects sing around it. He slowed down his pace and began to creep into this haven.

He moved into the open and stood beside navy water. He noticed the koi dancing around one another to a cricket's serenade. A few rouge rain drops trickled from the crippling leaves, but for the most part the storm had begun to depart.

He heard twigs crunch within the area. The sound was too harsh to be made by the wind. He could hear the victim's rapid pulse while he made an attempt to sneak around the beast in the woods. The victim must have mistaken Fenrir for being distracted and for a moment, Fenrir wished that he was.

He leaned back and awaited the intimate meeting. He realized that the victim was doing his best to silently vanish from the woods, but that's the thing about Asgardians – they're never silent.

He allowed the victim to trust that he would survive this encounter. He would arrive home to a loving family, eat something warm, and fall into a comfortable bed. This night would be no more than a hazy nightmare once the morning birds begin chirping at his window. He'd soon forget why he was even afraid of the forest in the first place.

If only.

Fenrir watched from the corner of his shadow while the victim stepped into the opening. It was evident that he was making an attempt to sneak behind the beast and latch onto a new trail. That was of his many, clumsy mistakes.

One… Two... Three.

Fenrir spun around and launched forward. He no longer cared for his hushed paces and began clawing his way through the serrated woods. It was almost humorous how long it took for him to catch up with the exhausted man, but that was to be expected. It would be impossible for him to fail at this point in the game.

He could hear the victim's panting, his accelerated pulse, his brash and quaking footsteps. Fenrir was growing weary of the chase and leaped in for the win. He lunged forward into the air and fall onto the victim's back. His claws sank deeply into the soft skin, allowing for the man's cries to echo into a land that would not listen.

...

Fenrir dropped the victim's corpse onto the damp ground and let the remainder of his blood to sink into the earth. He glanced up at the figure in front of him draped in a black robe. The man lifted his chin and gazed at the body with skeptical eyes.

A trifling breeze passed by them and carried up the scent of drenched flesh and mud. Fenrir sat down while the cool air swam around and ruffled his grey fur.

"Is there a problem sir?" Fenrir asked.

"You could have made the wounds a little cleaner. That's just sloppy handiwork."

"I'll try to do better next time..."

"There might not be a next time if you continue to screw up simple tasks such as this."

"I'm sorry, Linus..."

A sharp pain immediately ran through his stomach while the Linus's knee punctured his gut. Fenrir gasped for air and stumbled backwards. When he managed to look up again, Linus was standing over the corpse and resting his foot on the victim's chest. The victim's eyes were still wide and stared off into the forest behind him.

"Apologies are useless once the act is done. Now let's go before I really try to hurt you."

"What about my pay?"

"I don't pay mercenaries who are incapable of doing their jobs correctly. Now, come on."

Fenrir took a trembling step forward, "What if I report you to my father?"

Linus stared at him for a moment before cackling. He abruptly stopped his foolery and clenched a fist around Fenrir's throat. He pierced his eyes into his skull and Fenrir could smell the rum drifting off his tongue while he spoke.

"Maybe no one bothered to tell you while you were in your kennel, but that slimy bastard died a few days ago. So now, there is no one left to give a single shit about you so be aware. I'm honestly surprised Odin hasn't hammered your head into the wall yet."

He delivered a sharp kick to Fenrir's skull causing his legs to buckle beneath him. He turned his head slightly to prepare for the next move, but Linus had stepped back again. He took out a silver rope and tied it around Fenrir's throat. They both realized how unnecessary this is, but Linus believed in keeping people in their place.

The body was handed to a group of people by the ruins. Fenrir asked them what this man had done to be hunted out and they mumbled something about taxes and him being a "cheap asshole."

"Maybe he just fell into a rough patch." Fenrir said.

"That's not an excuse for being a lazy bastard." said one of the people.

"But he might have had a family or…"

Linus pulled at the rope and threatened to separate his skull from his body. "My apologies. His kind can't comprehend these sorts of situations. It was a pleasure doing business with you."

The people nodded and handed him his pay. He passed along a tenth of it to Fenrir out of pity or guilt, he was never sure. Once at the palace, Linus snuck Fenrir into the back and down an underground passageway to ensure no one would catch sight of him.

They would pass the real prison where criminals paid no mind to him. These prisoners had seen worse and a furry man beast was no exception. Fenrir found the walk almost comforting. To have no one even glance in your direction or treat you like a rare commodity was a blessing in itself.

Fenrir's room was at the edge of this hall hidden away from the prisoners and the Royal House. His room was sealed shut and at the center there was a large room encased in a specialized glass that the Asgardians had been working on for years now. It allowed him to look out into the dank room and for those entering to look in at him. It was a glorified window more than anything else.

Linus untied the rope and opened the door for Fenrir.

"You did good today." he said.

His words were mumbled and he averted eye contact, but Fenrir nodded and gave a polite thank you.

"Linus?" he asked.

"What now?"

"How did it happen?"

He bit his lower lip and hesitated before speaking. "Odin himself said he died protecting his brother. It was an honorable and heroic passage. Although, I think he's only saying that to make himself look good. After all the humiliation he's suffered with that bastard, might as well pretend he died a hero."

"How do you think he died?"

"I think in the midst of battle he realized he had gone too far and was killed out of his own stupidity."

"He wasn't that bad…"

"What? Because he'd come down here and read to you when you were a pup? Because he begged daddy not to burn you alive? Because he let you stay in this gracious cell away from your family? Prevent you from ever making friends? You realize you should be the one next in line right? Dear old dad is rotting in the ground and your uncle is off prancing around with mortals. Meanwhile, grandpa is withering away on that throne and it's clear his mind is going. Who's going to step in when he finally snaps? It won't be your uncle."

"He did what was best for me."

Linus sighed and ran his hand through the shortly cut hair of his. He came up close to the cell wall and burned his irises into his skull. Fenrir could see his nostrils flare and his breath linger on the glass.

"I know you think you have this cozy little room all to yourself with all the damn books you can read and the nice food and you even get little paychecks from your hunting job so you can go out and buy more books and useless knickknacks once every so often when your grandmother and Loki would sneak you out of the palace and make you look normal. But they're dead and when you look around you, you're still in a cell. You're still sealed away from anyone who could ever care about you because they're ashamed of you. You're an embarrassment. Hell, they won't even let you look normal all the time like they did with your bastard father. You're a mistake that no one has the heart to fix."

"That's not true…"

He backed away from the glass and pulled the hood back over his head to leave.

"Then please notify me when they begin calling you by your name."


	2. Chapter 2

The sun had never been bright before. He could remember how nice it felt to feel a streak of light press itself against his skin. He remembered the way the grass felt brushing against his ankles and how the trees were full of white petals. He could see wildlife in the distance and heard birds speak to each other in the branches. It was like being reborn.

He looked forward to his Thursday outings with his father. He recalled the way his father would smile when he began chasing a jumping cricket or try climbing a tree. He would take him out into a vast pasture far away from the cities and palace - far away from a noise ridden world and skeptic eyes.

His father would bring lunch for the two of them and he would sit and try to learn all he could about his son. Though faded, he could still recall scare notes of his father's laugh and how he would smile proudly when he told him jokes he had made up. He loved listening to his father's stories and he would often hand him a book he had recently finished before they said goodbye.

"Would you like to see a new trick?" Loki asked. Fenrir bobbed his head up and down. "This is something your grandmother taught me when I was around your age."

He told him to close his eyes and recall an image that has brought him comfort or any sort of bliss. He told him to linger on the memory until the world around him began to fade out and this piece of happiness was all he had. He told him to focus until this memory lit up his entire being and found warmth within his heart.

"Let the memory guide you." he said. "Let it become a source of light."

He then told him to open his eyes, but hang onto the blissful thought. When he did there was a golden and white mist pressing itself against the crisp afternoon blue. The texture was similar to the clouds, but it was thin and curved around the pale orbs floating high above.

The corners of his mouth reached his ears and scrunched his wide eyes. He began laughing and running toward the mystical ribbons in the sky. Loki waved his hand and a new set of clouds encircled Fenrir and danced in front of his eyes. When he reached out to touch them they morphed into dandelion seeds and drifted away from the late spring wind, tickling his nose.

He watched them float back into the sky while his mist faded into the blue. Loki placed an arm around his shoulder and glanced up at the view with him. There was a moment of silence – something Fenrir had become indifferent to, but not with someone sharing the lack of conversation.

The wind whistled and the white petals began trickling from the tree branches. Loki smiled down at him with what he recalled as pride and admiration. A decade later and he could hardly remember what memory had allowed him success in such a fantastical trick.

Linus had let him outside around sunset as he normally did. They would go by a small ranch not far from the palace grounds and lean against the fence until it was time to go home. Despite the resentment that came from both parties due to their assigned roles, the two had shared conversation night after night – sometimes even going deep into their minds and muttering thoughts that kept them up at night. More often than not these thoughts would be about aspirations or anxieties over tomorrow.

Linus wanted a career change and often dreamt of leaving Asgard, only he claimed that he had no real abilities or direction to commit to such a plan. On this particular night, Fenrir was still shaken by the news of his father. He listened to Linus mumble about his plans that would never happen and exhale a thread of smoke into the rusted atmosphere.

Linus's words fell limp and his mind lingered on the image of his ten year-old self standing next to his father that spring day. When he looked into the evening sky, a snow white string of clouds swam over the horizon and formed various designs.

Linus steadily separated the cigarette from his lips and gazed up at the phenomenal display. He watched as Fenrir moved his hands to control the direction of the ribbons and then to let them fall into the grass like snow.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Looks like we have a visitor." said Linus.

The bulk frame arose from the horizon and trudged its way toward the rundown fence with his left leg pulling a majority of the weight. A black cape fall at his ankles and drifted around the suave garb he had recently acquired. The king passed on a stern eye and cleared his throat. His good eye appeared to twitch and his voice was finely laced with a tremble that hummed under his breath.

"Loki's funeral will be starting soon." he said.

"My apologies sir, I'll have him back in his cell right away."

"No, no. I, uh, I thought it would only be right have to him present – just this once, of course."

"Thank you, your highness."

"Although, you're not allowed to make an appearance looking the way you do. Here."

Fenrir only felt a slight, but familiar sting. Linus looked him up and down approvingly and nodded back at Odin. He lingered on the façade he had created out of his grandson before turning his back on the two and trekking toward the palace. The sun had vanished by now and thin flames started to materialize above the great pillars.

"Wait until I'm out of your sight and then find your way to the sea. Make sure to stay in the back and if anyone questions your identity or relation state that you're a servant and create a name for yourself. Understood?"

"Yes, your highness."

…

The lanterns lifted themselves up in the imitation of fireflies that were being lured into dark waters. A silver coffin was carried onto the surface and shifted slightly under placid waves. The boat tasked with carrying this burden was adorned in silver jewels and intricate carvings that represented the life and heroic death of Prince Loki.

Linus and Fenrir stood near the edge of the sea so that he could have a clear view of his father's body which had not seen for almost three years. His eyes continuously shifted toward Odin to see if he would shed a tear for the loss of his son, but his face remained unhinged by the recent events. He looked weary and almost bored at the ceremony – perhaps wondering when he could go back inside and have a nice dinner before reading and falling into a comfortable slumber.

Beside the king was another figure with golden hair falling amongst broad shoulders. He kept his hands in front and his head bowed during the remainder of the funeral. Fenrir knew him to be his uncle, but he had never spoken to him or even been this close in proximity to the rightful prince. He would often hear his father tell stories of his older brother – sometimes with disgust and other times with an amused sense of admiration. His grandmother would speak of him too when providing humorous tales of his father's childhood or updating him on happenings in the palace.

When asked if and when he could meet this mythical uncle, he would always be given the same answers.

"You'll meet him someday soon." Frigga would tell him. "He has a lot to take care of being next in line."

"He'll meet you when he's ready." Loki said. He was much more blunt when it came to answering the string of questions Fenrir had each time he saw his family.

From what he knew now as a young adult, this uncle was in the dark of his existence. No one had bothered to mention a nephew and he had been out adventuring with his peers during the time Fenrir was born and his mother passed.

Seeing him now, seeing the legendary Thor, he couldn't help but to gawk at the prince. He had begun to believe that this Thor was no more than a myth to make his father's stories more entertaining. Of course, he knew this was the brother his father had died protecting, but even then his mind never quite wrapped itself around an actual living god.

He wanted to disobey Odin's rules and stand beside his uncle. He wanted to ask him questions and hear more about his childhood with Loki. He wanted to know what his father's last words were, what exactly he had been doing these past three years, or how he had survived the first time news spread that he had died.

This Thor had a kind face. He knew that this was a person he would be able to find a friend within – someone who might understand Odin's reasons for locking him away like a criminal. He noticed the dampness of his uncle's cheeks while Loki was pushed off into the sea. He knew that this was a man who was feeling the same sorrow and confliction that he was at that very moment, perhaps even longer. This was someone he could seek common ground with and while Linus was there to speak with, he didn't understand the entanglement of thoughts that reeled across his mind. He was no more than an outsider to this abyss of a life Odin had constructed around him.

No one else cried for his father. No one else seemed to grieve or care that this man had given his life to save the true heir to the throne. These people watched in an indifferent silence while the lost prince's body floated far off and dipped over the whispering waterfall. Odin had given his speech earlier and had spilled out beautiful words in his memory, but only the brother had put his full attention into the speech. He was the one to give a meaningful nod and second his father's intricate ode.

When the body had vanished and the lanterns carried themselves high above the clouds, the people departed. Many walked away as if they had attended a trivial announcement or witnessed an event they had seen a thousand times before. He felt irritated at the disrespect the people of this kingdom had for the heroic prince. He wanted to stop them and pull them back into the ceremony. He felt it was his duty to tell him all of the fantastical stories his grandmother had given him as a child, but he was aware enough to know this attempt would be wasted on wandering minds.

"Come on, we should go." said Linus.

"Wait," he pulled him back from the passing crowd. "Is it okay if we stay just a little longer?"

Linus didn't say anything – he didn't even mumble curses under his breath or role his eyes like he normally did. He took his place back next to Fenrir and looked solemnly into the murky water completely void of firefly imitations.

Quickly enough there were only a handful of mourners, including Thor. Odin had moved up to the mouth of the sea and gazed thoughtfully into the direction of the waterfall. Thor let his father be and began drifting away with the thinning mass. He brushed past Fenrir and knocked his shoulder by mistake.

"My apologies, I'm not quite myself tonight." he said.

"I'm sorry for your loss, your majesty." said Linus. Fenrir nodded his agreement.

"Thank you. So much has happened these past few days that I haven't had the proper time to grieve or even think about him." He hesitated, "Did you know him?"

"I spoke to him once or twice while he was incarcerated. I'm one of the prison guards so I'm afraid I don't get out much. I wish I could have known more about him, your mother always had kind things to say when she would visit."

"Yes, they were very close. What of you? I'm afraid I don't recognize you."

He legs began to grow unsteady and he could feel a lump form in his throat. He looked up closely at the prince with his swollen eyes. "I never knew him." he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fenrir never met his mother. From what he knew she passed away not long after his birth. He was given different reasons about her untimely departure, but was much too timid to ask for the truth.

"She was very sick." said Frigga. "But I know she loved you greatly."

"She ditched you." said Linus. "She saw you as a burden and she just dropped you off here after you were born. I think she's in Midgard now or something. Maybe even dead. Who knows?"

"She was wounded." said Loki. "But she fought the pain for as long as she could."

"What was she like?" Fenrir would ask. Once more, the answers would tick by like clockwork.

Frigga: "Her name was Angrboda and she was very beautiful. I've never seen your father smile so much around anyone."

Linus: "She kept her distance. No one is even sure where she was from."

Loki: "She was quite clever and kind."

"How did she get sick?"

Frigga: "A rare disease."

"Why hasn't she come back?"

Linus: "She doesn't want to."

"How did she get hurt?"

Loki: "Politics."

"What did she like to do?"

Frigga: "I think she enjoyed travel."

Linus: "How the hell would I know?"

Loki: "She liked to think and sort of take things in. She wasn't much of a talker, but she loved to philosophize."

"Was she like me?"

Frigga: "You have her smile."

Linus: "What do you think?"

Loki: "Very much."

These words replayed in his mind while he scavenged the woods. The sky was crisp and clear – not a single cloud or hint of wind. A frigid corpse was sprawled out over Fenrir's back and the head bobbed up and down with each step. A limb slipped from its holding place and brushed against his snout. He shivered and flipped it back with tightened eyes. Recent thoughts were shaken away and he crawled back into the more blissful parts of his mind.

He had been wandering for about eleven minutes now and there was still no sign of Linus; he couldn't even pick up his scent. He continued moving west to where the only life would be in the form of rabbits or some other small creature. He wasn't about to get himself caught because Linus had gotten distracted.

He knew if he made it to the ruins he could bury the body behind a fallen pillar and rest for a while. This was a spot his grandmother would often take him to as a child. The forest hid the entrance well and hardly anyone knew it existed or had the urge to visit.

Frigga would tell him stories of the gods who lived in these ruins. She'd speak of brave warriors and wise leaders. His favorite was the story of a girl who had stood between her people and an army with readied spears. His grandmother had presented the story in a clean and condensed way, but he became so enthralled in it that he once snuck into the library to find the original tale.

The girl was a simple villager – nothing extraordinary. Yet, she loved her home and the people in her village. She was a pacifist and believed violence would only bring more bloodshed and hatred into an already tainted world.

When she stood before the enemy, the army faltered and was utterly dumbfounded by the girl's rash tactic. The brigadier leading this troop pulled the girl in close and whispered dark words. Without hesitation, he stabbed through her chest and drew out her heart. He lifted the warm organ high above his head and presented it to the appalled village. He told them that this was the heart of a foolish girl who had no business in the line of war. He sluggishly began ripping it into two halves. Damp blood dripped from the core and trickled over his skull. He inhaled the musty scent with satisfaction and tossed one piece at the village's feet.

The other he crushed under his boot.

The village was ransacked and beaten into the earth. Magnificent statues of protecting gods and goddesses fell and crippled at the might of the enemy. Few survived and the ones who did were exiled from their land. Within a day the village had been buried and abandoned.

But the gods took pity on the girl who sacrificed herself for these people. They took her soul and placed it into a hidden garden filled in snow white flowers and glistening ponds under marble bridges. There she would meet the spirits of the other villagers who had passed. They would be able to reunite and live in this haven peacefully for all of eternity. It would become a home to lost souls from every land, but only those with pure hearts would find their way there.

Fenrir found comfort in the ending. So much that would often pray that the souls of his hunted would find their way to this garden with the white flowers.

Once at the ruins he set the corpse behind a broken statue and kept watch for the eventual arrival of Linus. The sky felt darker than usual that night. Colder too. The ground seemed to weep beneath him and linger in the hushed evening.

The sound did not cease and he began searching the small plain for this crippling voice. It seemed to echo near the only sculpture still intact aside from the missing head. A wave of rotting flesh clogged his nose the closer he came. He began to smell dried blood curdling somewhere deep below.

Hesitantly, he nudged the statue. With a hairsplitting screech, the statue slid across its pedestal to reveal a marble staircase leading below the earth. He glanced over his shoulder at the corpse, but there was still not hint of an intruder. He bit his lip pensively and began his decent.

The stairs led into a musty catacomb. Intricate stories were scribbled into the walls and formed out of an unknown language. There were strange images of wild beasts stitched together and sirens encircling ships.

The weeping was more audible in the tunnel and gradually morphed into a forced laughter the closer Fenrir got. At the end of the hall was a round room where a stream of moonlight dripped in from a hole up above. Lying on the ground was a man with a rusted metal chain attached to his left leg. His hair hung around his body in a tangled mass of white and one of his eyes was hollowed and encrusted in raw skin.

Fenrir kept himself behind the archway, but the man had already heard someone enter. He sat up and grinned maliciously with rotting teeth. Fenrir eyed the old man timidly from a safe distance. His eyes were beginning to water and his bones quivered violently. He clung to the wall and slowly sank to the ground while King Odin chortled behind him.

"Has the enjoyment run thin?" Odin asked. When Fenrir did not answer, he continued on. "Please, indulge an old man. Did they mourn for you? Did they speak kind words?"

Fenrir covered his neck and attempted to muffle his cries. Long ago his father had trained him in shapeshifting, but he could never quite grasp the skill. It had frustrated him greatly over the years that he could only impersonate the voice of a person rather than their appearance. Sometimes the gift was useful as a simple prank. Over all, it was nothing special. Nothing remarkable. The only skillset for a rather dull being.

But at this time he chose to clear his mind and withhold the heavy sobs so that he could speak in his father's silver tongue.

"Well? Did they mourn, _son_?"

"No." he answered.

"Are you weeping?"

He shakily rubbed his eyes. "No."

"You won't last Loki. I could go on for ages telling you why you weren't chosen. You're selfish, heartless, unfaithful, rash…"

"Okay, I get it. I get it."

"It was a mistake bringing you into this House. I should have known nothing good could come from a putrid frost giant."

"A what?"

His voice began to break.

"Don't act naïve with me." said Odin. "You were a worthless child – always in tears. Did you even wonder why your brother's comrades never accepted you? Or did you believe them to be your companions? Did you believe that anyone in this kingdom cared for you?"

"Mother did."

"I loved her dearly, but she was a fool."

"How dare you dishonor her memory."

"You dishonor her by simply being. She had faith in you. She believed you would become someone worthy. Someone who could bring about peace. She said you were clever, but she was misled. She was blinded by her unfathomable love for you. If she was not so dense, she would have despised you."

"That's not true."

"She would have that greased head of yours sliced from your throat and pinned to a filthy twig."

"Please, stop."

"Are you about to weep again? I cannot understand you. I cannot understand how a creature bred from the most violent beasts I have ever seen in all my days would cry like an infant after hearing a few unkind words. It is no wonder Laufey abandoned a runt like you in the midst of a war."

"Stop it, these are all lies!"

"No, Loki."

His chain rattled and he steadily rose. There was a sharp click followed by the tapping of bare feet on stone.

"You have risen so high." said Odin, "And now you will crumble beneath the pillars you have built for yourself."

He could hear the rusted metal scratch against the ground and enter the tunnel. Rancid, clammy breath dripped over his ear and spilled onto his eyelids. Cold metal pressed itself into his neck and drew specks of blood. The one eyed king took his body and flung it into the enclosure.

Fenrir was becoming lightheaded and nauseous. The thread of luminosity drifted over and allowed him to see Odin saunter towards him. He pinned his foot onto Fenrir's chest and lowered his gaunt face.

The king's pale skin converted into a dim violet.

"You should be dead."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Where is Loki?" Odin asked.

He kept the chain pressed against Fenrir's neck while he lied on the ground causing an unnatural rasp in his voice. Warm spit flung between his teeth as he gasped for air and struggled to speak. His eyes seemed to be bulging from their sockets.

"I don't know. I thought he was dead."

"You fool!"

Odin's heel clashed against the bridge of his nose. Fenrir coiled back in agony whilst the king began pacing. He ran grimy nails through his hair and beat the walls. Fenrir began wheezing and rubbed the raw skin around his neck. His eyes were dampened and warm blood dripped from his snout.

"When did he come for you?" Odin asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I'm sorry."

"Did he send you here to finish the job?"

"I haven't seen him in years. I didn't even know there was something down here. I'm sorry, sir."

"That imbecile. What does he think he's doing?"

"Why – why did he lock you away? Why would he lie?"

Odin scoffed. "You think he has any dignity?"

"I just don't understand."

"Of course you wouldn't."

Odin took a fistful of his hair and flung him across the chamber. He noticed specks of blood seeping from the cracks in his lips. He struggled to his feet and limped toward the Odin.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?"

"What haven't you done?" he took a jagged stone and held it up to the light. "And now, pitiful demon, I will finally free myself from this curse."

Fenrir lifted his chin and awaited the blow. His bones crackled like a dying campfire with each clash. His head was becoming lighter – his thoughts muddled. The warm current of blood oozed from rips in his skin and became entangled in his pelt. His face was damp. His eyes were turning violet. He laid flaccid and whimpered apologies under his breath.

From the opening of the tunnel he could faintly hear the squeaking of boots. The pace quickened, but Odin chose to disregard it. He had become entranced in this final execution – his cleansing of the palace walls. The House of Odin was drenched in the blood of traders – Fenrir just happened to be an unfortunate extension.

The boots had ceased their noise making and a gruff panting had taken their place. The stone fell once more and took with it skin from his cheek. He cried out at this causing a quicker and much harsher collision. He bit his tongue and trembled violently until it was almost slit in half.

"Get away from him you bastard!"

Linus ran toward Odin and grabbed him at the torso. He shoved him into the wall and proceeded to grab the crook of his shoulder. His limbs ended their thrashing and Odin slumped onto the floor. Linus kicked him in the gut and then fell at Fenrir's side.

"What did he do to you?" Linus asked.

"Is he dead?"

"No, I just made him pass out. Oh god, what did he do?"

Linus pulled Fenrir into his arms and carried him outside the tunnel. The carcass from before still lay beside one of the fallen statues where a family of vultures took their liberty with it. Linus ignored the feast and ran with Fenrir back to the palace.

The sun was beginning to creep up over the horizon, giving off a pale blue and lavender light across the plains. The birds had awoken and called out to each other from various trees. A thin mist had aligned itself with the wooden fence outside the ranch and the soil smelt like spring flowers coated in dew.

It was almost peaceful to Fenrir – a fitting way to depart.

When he glanced up at Linus, he noticed moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes and spilling out onto his chin. He realized that this should be alarming, but his conscious was floating in and out of reality. He was unable to feel any sense of fright.

Before long, it had all gone dark.

Fenrir was standing in a vacant corridor laced with debris. The walls around him were a dark stone filled with holes and odd markings written in white chalk. Specks of the material trickled off and morphed into a puff of dust. Below him the flooring had sunken into the earth leaving heaps of grass struggling to grow through. Dandelions were scarcely scattered throughout the creases and moss clung to the lonely pillars.

The familiar tune of summer birds sang softly above him where the ceiling was no more. A canopy of trees wavered from outside and created a soft shadow over the windows. These three openings were oval and sat perfectly aligned in the center. A black rim fell straight through each and curved halfway to create a diamond. In the center of that design was a green gem which sent flickering circles of light across the collapsed gables.

He felt dazed and light weight. It seemed that pieces of him were missing or that he was instead floating slightly above ground. From the distance a child was humming a simple tune. He followed the voice down the hall until he reached a lofty stain glass window hovering over an archway.

In the grassy field was a young boy on his back. He held a book over his head and flipped through the pages freely. He took in the odd facial features and patches of fur sprouting from the boy's hands. He remembered being that boy and reading those hefty stories that his father admired.

In actuality he never read through those stories until he was older. He found them drab and filled with long words that made little sense. He liked to pretend that he was an adult when he shuffled through the pages. Sometimes he would bite his lower lip in order to deeply ponder and analyze the fictional situations. He thought this would make him mature at the age of seven despite his mind wandering into childish daydreams.

"Fenrir, are you ready to go?"

Loki stood beside the boy and helped him to his feet. He took the book from his hands before Fenrir tipped over and lifted him onto his shoulders.

"Can we come back here tomorrow?" asked the boy.

"Maybe, we'll see." Loki said, "So what did you think of the book?"

He couldn't help but reach out to the departing figures, but his body refused to move past the white line at his feet. He attempted to call them back, but it was pointless. He could hear his younger self chatter away about made up stories while he was stranded in a crippled cathedral.

"Fenrir?"

He glimpsed around for the disembodied voice, but there was only a bird pecking at the windows. The voice called out to him once more causing the rest of his world to fall silent. The soft leaves became transparent and the walls around him began to sink into the earth.

Before he even realized it, he was all alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Linus disobeyed the scolding guards aligning the hallways as he headed toward the throne room. Castle dwellers began shrieking at the sight of such a beast – let alone one that was shredded into pieces with unbalanced bones. Linus ignored the cries and the hands grasping at his coat. He told them to shove off and smashed his shoulder against the gates until he was inside.

The throne room was long and adorned with dark flags. He stumbled his way down the aisle with trembling arms and thick sweat clinging to his brows. At the edge of the room sat the regal figure of Odin – a king draped in black.

Linus set Fenrir down at the king's feet and tugged at his sleeve. He made a desperate attempt to speak over his uneven breaths and fiercely pounding chest.

"Please." Linus said, "Help him. I know - I know you can heal him. Okay? I know, so please – please don't fuck with me."

Odin steadily rose from his throne and knelt beside the crippled creature. He pulled Fenrir into a quivering embrace and cradled his head. A pitiful sob escaped his throat and caused him to hesitate. He glanced back at Linus – terrified.

Linus placed the king's hand over the poor creature's forehead.

"Fix him. Fix Fenrir."

The king quietly closed his eyes and swept his arm over the body. Fenrir shivered and his lids began to lift. Most of the wounds had shut, but a few long scars remained where he had been stricken deeply. His arms steadily aligned themselves again and his eyes were able to open fully. When he glanced up he saw Odin watching him with hollow eyes and scabbed lips.

The king passed him onto Linus, but kept a hold on his arm. Fenrir stiffened at the sight of the one eyed king.

"He's still injured." said Linus.

"I'm not able to fully heal. Take him back to his room and a better healer will be with him briefly."

"I thought you were a god."

The king turned from him and stroked the hood of his throne.

"Don't be a fool."

The halls were silent as Linus carried Fenrir back to his cage. The castle dwellers watched ominously, keeping their distance. Linus kept his chin high and his eyes focused. The whispering began to sail around his neck and creep into his ears. Words caressed the back of his head and entangled themselves in his hair.

He didn't brush them aside or disregard them. He strived to swim above the white noise.

Under the palace he laid Fenrir into his cot. He was still shivering, but it was gradually becoming less noticeable. Linus pulled the covers over his frail figure and stood at the foot of the bed, awaiting the healer.

Fenrir noticed the redness adorning his eyelids and the swollen cheeks. Linus wouldn't look back at him – he kept his attention at the door.

"Linus, what happened? Where's Odin?"

"He's still in that cave."

"But he was in the throne room. I saw him looking at me."

"You are the most naïve being I have ever met."

"I'm serious, what was he doing there? Am I even safe right now?"

"I don't know, but the man up there isn't Odin."

"Then who is he?"

Linus shifted his weight and greeted the healer standing at the cell gate. Fenrir began nodding in and out, listening to the rhythmic mutterings of the two. Before long he was lost to a heavy slumber.

In the morning Linus and the healer were gone. His body ached as he tried to sit up and he had bandages wrapped around his ribs. When he moved, his bones crackled and stung. He was about to lay his head back down when he saw a leather bound book resting at the foot of his bed.

He held it cautiously and glanced over the withered pages. Clumsy underlines and notes were scribbled into paragraphs and along the side. He brushed the cover and scrunched his brows at the familiar title.

"Do you like it?" asked a voice. "I don't know if you've read it or not."

When he glanced back up he saw a man with raven hair trickling over his shoulders and clothed in a smart green coat. He presented an ill grin and placed his hands at his back.

A wave of nausea crept up through Fenrir's throat. He gripped the novel tightly and chewed at his lips.

"Good morning, son."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"You left me to die." said Fenrir. "Didn't you?"

"I never left you. It was that brute Odin who tore me away from you."

Loki sat on the edge of the cot and tugged at his sleeves. The green in his eyes was worn and lacked the luster they once held. He began rubbing his forehead subconsciously and became fixated on the flooring.

"A lot was happening when I left." Loki said, "Odin was choosing his successor and I – well I was trying to be that choice. I was going to be a leader. Bring change. Instead I got myself thrown into childish battles and incarcerated. But, I never – I never meant to go so far."

"He told me that I should be dead."

"I don't know what any of that is about, I'm afraid. Odin is an ignorant old man."

"Then why is he still alive? Why did you hide him underground? Why did you do any of this? It's – well, it's insane."

"I locked him away because I wanted him to suffer."

"You should have let him go."

"Let him go? After he almost beat you to death?"

"I'm not saying he's a good man. But there are rumors about you, you know? Rumors that say you're no better."

Loki rose and paced about the room. He picked up books and knickknacks and would study them before carefully placing them back. "Don't you have any mirrors in here?" he mused.

"Don't kid around."

He set down the novel he was holding and leaned against a shelf.

"I've done careless acts." Loki said, "But I'm seeking redemption now. I don't want to live this way anymore."

"They won't trust you. Not after you lied to them."

"I posed as Odin because he was unfit for the job and he refused to hand it down to the proper candidate. Oh, and I also let my brother go run off with his Midgardian love so I don't believe I've been that cruel. Soon the people will understand that I am capable of so much more."

"You're a criminal, they all say so. You don't think I heard the whispering? Or all the things granddad told me? I just don't understand why you're hiding from me or why my own family is out to kill me. What did I do to you or anyone else?"

"You've done nothing. You have the most docile soul I've ever seen. I don't think you could do anything to warrant such hatred."

"Then why can't I live at your side? Why can't I have a chance at the throne? Why can't I walk amongst my own blood without being beaten or shoved off?"

Fenrir was standing now despite the protests rising under his skin. Loki turned to him with broadening eyes.

"I have lived my entire life in this hell." Fenrir said, "I have had guards gawk at me as if I'm only here for their amusement. I get to spend a day a week with my own father because he's too ashamed to be seen with me. I have a grandmother who promises that everything is for my own good, but no one has the guts to tell me what that good is. And I wait and I wait for all these answers because I want to believe that she was right. I want to believe that this – this life – is a good thing, but I can't anymore."

His legs quivered and buckled beneath him. He grabbed the bed post for support, but his arms were weak. He fell to his knees and kept himself grounded with his hands. Loki knelt and began to lift him, but Fenrir threw a frail fist at his chest.

"I used to think you were a hero." He said in a broken voice, "I used to think you were out saving this land and that was why you couldn't be with me. I thought one day I might be worthy enough to fight at your side, but I can see now that was never intended. Well, you know what, father? I'm not this innocent shut in that you want me to be. I've hunted and I've killed. And it tears at me. It haunts me. I can't even breathe when I think about it, but I continue doing it because I've started to believe that this is all I'm good for.

"And I wept for you. Twice. I wept and I was so angry that you would leave me here all alone without so much as a goodbye or that you'd bother to return without telling me you were alright. It was like I didn't exist to you anymore and that maybe you had decided I was a lost cause just like everyone else. Do you know what that feels like? Do you know what it feels like to have the only person who showed you any ounce of compassion to run off on you? Because I have been dealing with that for the past three years and I was still glad to know you were alive when I saw Odin. And I hate myself for that."

"Fenrir, that's enough…"

"No, no it's not enough."

"I didn't choose to leave you. Odin was the one who initiated all of that. He wouldn't let me see you anymore, but I was going to come back. That was always going to happen. I just needed more time. But I was never going to abandon my child."

"Fuck you…"

Fenrir fell into Loki's chest and sobbed onto his coat. He pulled his son close and stroked the back of his head.

"I swear to you," he said, "that nothing will ever harm you again."

Fenrir continued to weep like a weary and foolish child.

Deep into the ruins, Linus studied the crooked statue. Patches of curdled blood clung to the sculpture's hands and seeped onto the robe. The ground had been flattened by rough steps and a twisted object that was dragged behind. Tips of the grass were coated in a fine crimson.

He descended into the tunnel with a spear ready should he need it. His feet were careful not to alarm the mice that scurried through the walls or anything else that was possibly breathing. He curled up behind the arch leading into the opening and peered out cautiously.

Empty.

When he returned to the surface, he noticed a beige lump cradled under the foot of the statue. The toes were broken and grimy bones jetted out of the ankle. He scanned the ruins with anxiety rising up inside his chest like the first wave of a brutal storm.

The Asgardian king was liberated.


	8. Chapter 8

"And what if Odin doesn't return?" Fenrir asked.

His eyes had dried and he sat on his cot, glancing at the floor. Loki sat beside him at a reasonable distance and studied the young man with him. He noticed his head was less round and his frame more lanky. His hair was longer, the eyes greener, and the spark he had as a child had begun to wither.

He still had a short figure, but the rest of features seemed to have balanced out over the past few years. It was difficult to tell if this made him more animalistic or Asgardian.

"Now, you see, that's the fun part." Loki stood and held out his hand. "You get to start living like a prince."

"What, you mean I get to live up there?"

"You'll have a better room, better food, and promise of the throne."

"The throne…" Fenrir paused, "Will you tell the kingdom about me?"

"They should have known about you a long time ago."

"How will you tell them? What if they don't take it well?"

"Fenrir, if they don't accept you then that's their doing."

"And you'll let me look normal?"

"What's wrong with your appearance?"

"Don't act like I'm a naïve child. If you want me to be the face of the next king then shouldn't I look more…likeable? I'd do it myself, but I'm not as gifted as you."

"You could hide yourself under a mask for years, but eventually it would wear thin."

"Yours must be close to cracking then."

Loki sighed and leaned his head back against the widow. "Fair enough." he said, "What do you suggest I do?"

"I want to be by your side as your son. No more illusions."

Loki massaged the bridge of his nose, "Maybe it's for the best. I was growing tired of pretending to be that idiot."

"Do I have your word?"

"Yes, but for the time being we'll need to pose. You don't want to push too much information on Asgardians – their tiny minds will implode on themselves."

Loki stepped aside and opened the back entrance. There was a hesitation while he stared into the black void of the staircase. Cob webs were intricately laced across the banister and archway. A rat scurried across his boots, but he grinned to himself.

"I suppose the next time I die, they'll tie that bloody hammer to my ankle and toss me into the sea."

* * *

><p>Odin was limping towards the palace gates when Linus scouted him. He made a run at the king and leapt onto his back. Odin thrashed around and attempted to throw him off, but Linus had placed a hand over his good eye. Trees and grass twirled wildly around the two until the side of Linus's head smashed itself against the ground. Odin was brought down with him and the spinning of nature came to an abrupt halt.<p>

Odin locked onto his throat, but Linus was quick to pull away. The king's arms were falling limp and his face had lost an immense amount of color. Linus jumped to his feet and brushed the grass from his knees while Odin attempted to crawl towards him. He muttered curses under his breath and sunk his nails into the soil. Linus hardly moved as Odin was getting no place anytime soon. He scratched the back of his head and took pity on the king.

"Don't take offense to this, your majesty," said Linus, "but you're an idiot."

Odin pounded a fist into the ground. "You're the first one I'm locking away."

"You're going to bleed to death if you don't wrap up that wound."

"I do not require help from the likes of you."

"Too bad, I'm not giving you choice."

Linus shed his coat and pulled off his shirt. He wiped away the dirt and dry blood and proceeded to wrap the cloth tightly around the opening. Odin sat in silence until it was done. His brows furrowed and he leaned his back against a tree trunk. Linus sat on top of a nearby boulder to examine the scratches across his arm.

"You should probably hydrate yourself." said Linus, "You look awful. When was the last time you ate?"

"I'll eat once I have my throne again."

"I'm sensing some hostility."

"I remember you. I gave you orders months ago that I can see you did not follow through on."

"Well, you never checked in."

"Forgive me if I was preoccupied with being held hostage."

Linus began plucking grass out of the earth. "You didn't give me a time limit either. Does that make it any less awful?"

"Don't act so innocent. I've come to know very well when people are being false."

"What would I gain from lying at this point? Like, I said – you gave me a mission. You didn't specify when it had to be completed. On those terms, I've yet to fail you."

"Maybe so, but it doesn't excuse you from beating me senseless."

"That was self-defense. You may have not noticed, your majesty, but your mind is slipping."

"My mind is fine. It's this kingdom that is slipping. When Loki was away, everything was so peaceful. I thought having that beast gone as well would make the world balanced. As how it used to be."

"That beast has a name and the world is never balanced. It's constantly shifting and all we have to do is keep running in the opposite direction so that we don't fall off."

"I don't know what type of bond you have formed with Loki's son, but I need it to end. I need you to follow through on your orders."

"Easier said than done, your highness."

Linus opened his hand and watched the heap of grass inside drift away with the oncoming breeze. The blades swept over into the horizon and appeared to lift themselves into the clouds from a distance. His eyes lingered on the scenery before he stood and offered a hand to Odin.

"Once we arrive at the palace, I want you to complete your task." Odin said.

"Understood."

"Can I trust you?"

"That's up to you to decide."

"This isn't a game. I require your full commitment."

"Then might I suggest entering from underground? That way we don't have to deal with confused guards and you can be present to ensure the deed is done."

"I agree. Once that creature is dead, I may stay down there until the rest of my strength is recovered. Loki isn't much of a fighter, but I would rather face him with some dignity."

"Well said."

Linus helped Odin to stand and supported him by holding onto his torso. The king wrapped an arm around his shoulder. He leaned in close to Linus's ear. Humid breath dripped from his lips and crawled down his neck. The short hairs on Linus's neck jumped from their pores and stood perfectly still.

"If you cross me," said the king, "I will chain you to that tunnel and I will not return."

Linus took a moment to catch his breath and swallow the anxiety creeping onto his tongue. He smiled sincerely and nodded.

"Yes, my king."


	9. Chapter 9

Loki had slipped back into the silver haired head of Odin and given Fenrir the passable appearance of an ordinary guard. It would be enough to move through the palace undetected until they were in a private area.

It was odd to move with the face of another. Fenrir felt uneasy walking out into the palace courtyard. The hands he saw were still his own and the legs he used were still coated in a thick fur. It was similar to the funeral - same creature, different face. All he had to go by was the assurance his father gave him. He could only trust that no one would stop him in the center of the palace and lunge at him with a dagger.

At times like this he realized just how much he preferred the woods. It was comforting to have tall trees wrap around you, but out here or out by the plains that comfort slipped away. Out there he could see for miles and while sometimes it was easier to breathe with the abundance of space, there was also nothing to conceal him. He could see the windows of the palace from miles away – sometimes he'd even notice a shadow lurking behind the curtains. He wondered if they could see him to – just standing there too.

Alone.

Exposed.

He glanced back at the wooden door leading into his cell. From the outside, the entrance appeared to lead into a utility closet or perhaps nothing at all. It was plain enough not to warrant any curiosity, but not so invisible that he or anyone authorized would miss it. A clever design.

His eyes darted around the courtyard anxiously. The area was rather barren apart from a tall figure moving in from the West. The sight caught him off guard and caused his lungs to swell. The warrior was carrying a body wrapped in cherry stained towels. Fenrir couldn't help but notice the particularly brutal looking sword attached to her hip.

"Sif, what happened?" asked Loki in the king's voice.

"Fandral and I found him over by the ruins. Someone must have left him there."

"What do you mean?"

"He has a fresh mark on his throat. It looks like something bit into him and then broke his neck for an immediate kill. He can't have been dead for more than a day or two."

"May I?"

Loki unveiled the man and squirmed at his mangled nose and lips. He quickly pulled the sheet back over. "Looks like the vultures already got to him."

"He's going to be hard to identify, but I'll try to find and notify the family."

"You think he has someone? He could have done this to himself."

"Everyone has someone. And if he was taken from them, I want to find who did this and get them locked away."

"How are you so certain it's a person? It looks like a bear got to him. Probably just a hunting accident."

"If it was a bear or any other animal, I'd be carrying a leg right now. It had to have been someone or else he wouldn't have been left behind." Sif paused and noticed the sweat dripping over Loki's brow, "Don't look so concerned King Odin, I'll get a search party on it immediately."

"Good, good." he said, "Please inform me on any updates."

"Will do."

After the entrance door clicked behind her, a wave of steady air once again drifted over his tongue. "Do you think it was just a bear?" he asked.

"I hope so."

"What do you mean you hope so?"

"I'm just worried that it might have been Odin. Maybe he thought that man was me."

Fenrir could feel his pulse rise again and cause his heart to rattle around in his gut. Loki noticed the trembling in his hands and kindly grasped his shoulder.

"He can't hurt you anymore." said Loki, "You're safe as long as you're by my side."

"And what if it isn't Odin? Then what?"

A small laugh escaped Loki's lips. "Well, then I'd pray for the poor soul Sif gets her hands on."

* * *

><p>When Fenrir was young, his grandmother would often take him to a small cathedral somewhere hidden behind the woods. It was a peaceful place near a creek. No one was sure where the crippled building had come from, let alone who had once occupied it, but the solitude created a tranquil atmosphere. It was a place to escape the noise – to rest and find room to breathe. It quickly became Fenrir's favorite place.<p>

He and Frigga would often pass the time chatting about different odds and ins. Frigga loved learning more about her grandson's interests and Fenrir loved hearing the carefully crafted stories of his grandmother. He remembered her being regal and poised. He often wished he was born with just an ounce of the grace she held. She was, in the purest sense, a natural born leader.

She often shared fairytales which he quite enjoyed. He remembered the story of twins named Elise and Elias, who had grown up in a small, blissful village. They were raised and treated equally, but while Elise leaned toward the light, Elias leaned toward the darkness. When the village was in danger, Elise stood with her people and she became the embodiment of goodness. Elias ran into the woods like a coward. The gods would then sentence him to a life of isolation in the never ending forest while Elise was given a land with endless meadows and kind faces.

Elise would be a queen.

Elias would be a savage.

The tale itself was meant to show two different sides of one person – what someone could become if they chose one path over the other. It was a typical "moral of the story" genre. Fenrir understood it was nothing more than simple idea, but it continued to linger in the back of his mind.

He often wondered if he was the darkness and his violent nature was doing nothing more than lying dormant. Maybe one day he'd slip and act out against the gentle nature he always strived to maintain. He was an excellent hunter – he realized that. Then where did these instincts come from and why did he allow them to control his will when it felt convenient?

He had spent his entire life waiting for the day that Loki would welcome him into the palace. His childhood was wasted dreaming about an ordinary life where he could run down the great halls with other children his age. He wanted the nice food, the nice beds, and the nice clothes. He wanted a life so bland that it would drive most mad. Only the moment Loki offered him this and so much more, his skin seemed to tighten.

Being here felt wrong. He belonged in a secluded place with barriers. Here he was much too exposed.

As he glimpsed at the rotting corpse beneath him, he wondered if he'd even notice the transformation. He could still recall the crisp snap of his victim's neck and the cry he made. Praying his soul would find its way to a better place no longer held any comfort.

He even remembered the man's name. Linus had told him. He had made a deal with a group of brutal people and, against his better judgment, he had stepped away from the deal. The price would be his life and Fenrir would be the collector. He didn't know if the man had a family nor did he particularly want to know.

Sif's cold stare left him motionless. He eyed the blade clinging to her side and felt the onset of fresh nausea. She held herself with such confidence that it caused him to feel smaller and weaker than he was. She almost reminded him of Frigga, but the thought didn't unwind the twisting in his gut.

Perhaps this Sif was meant to be a queen.

And he was meant to be a savage.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The room Loki set aside for Fenrir was more than he could ever ask for. He had a small balcony at his window and a giant bed that felt far too comfortable. He had difficulty falling asleep because his bones had become accustomed to thin mattresses and tattered sheets. He feared that he may drown under the heftiness of these massive covers. Just to have a pillow that didn't sink beneath the weight of his skull felt unnatural.

It was nearly two in the morning, but he needed to be alert. Visions of Odin's brutality swarmed his mind just when he was beginning to doze off. He could still see saliva spewing from the king's teeth and the spark that lit his eye – the type of spark that can only occur when a person's soul has been shredded and then carelessly reconstructed.

He slipped into the bathroom where a towel still draped over the mirror from earlier. Acting separately, his hand reached out to the fabric. He brushed it, but decided to let it be. Instead he searched the cabinets until he found a small blade.

He began scraping at the silk-like threads of fur on his arms and the short fuzz on his hands. His fingers trembled, creating crimson creases in his palms and unflattering markings on his skin. He proceeded to trim, shifting away the cloth piece by piece.

When he felt he had made decent progress, he decided it was time to venture toward the wolf's tail protruding from his backside. He grabbed the unnecessary bone and began shearing the mass of grey fur that aligned it. When that wasn't enough, he began cutting into the bone. The pain was turning unbearable, but he gritted his teeth and continued clipping away the deformity.

He managed to cut far too deep into the muscle and wailed at the immense pain that tremored throughout his body. He stumbled backwards and grabbed onto the towel for support. The piece of cloth slipped from the mirror and he crashed down onto the floor. He clutched onto the sink, but his legs wobbled over the slippery surface and shifted across the tile.

When he regained his footing he gradually lifted himself up only to be confronted by a distorted reflection. The soft green eyes blinked back at him. The lips curled inwards. The bottom one had teeth marks dented into it.

The face was odd. Crimson specks aligned the chin and cheeks while grey pieces of hair sprung out in scattered patches. A protruding snout sat in the center complete with a dark nose and thin whiskers. His teeth fell at uneven angles and became pointed, most noticeably the two larger ones up front. The sight caused him to further tighten his constricted mouth.

His ears peeped through long grey hair that fell straight and wrapped his face in a thin mane. His torso was strangely barren – the skin only a lighter grey which felt like wool upon touching it. He wondered just how long it would be until every pore was being suffocated by dog hair.

He lingered on the abnormality that twisted around his body until his eyes began to dampen. He pounded at the mirror, causing glass to shatter and sink into his knuckles.

He clasped his fist and fell to his knees. He began sobbing at his pathetic acts while picking the shards from his skin.

He stood in the showers and allowed the warm water to cleanse him. Blood dripped onto his feet and descended deep into the drain. The water stung the raw regions of his skin. He would wince and continue to cry, but for the most part he welcomed this cleansing.

When he stepped out, what remained of the mirror was misted over. He snatched a broom from outside the hall and steadily began sweeping away the pieces. He then took another towel and washed away the blood stains on the stone flooring.

It was a wonder what cleaning did to the mind. The repetitive strokes took a calming effect on him. Once the gruesome tiles had been cleared, his eyes became weary and a soft yawn escaped his lips. He rested his back on the bed and stared out the long windows to the side of him.

The sun was stretching out over the forest canopy and lit each shadowed row one by one. He could hear the movement of castle dwellers floors beneath him and friends chatting in the gardens. The rhythmic voices and the honey light in the windows was enough to cause his eyes to droop. His mind gradually began to settle and before long he was lost a satisfying slumber.

* * *

><p>Linus and Odin arrived at an empty cell just after dawn. The glass door had been shut, but all that sat inside was an unmade cot and a stack of books. Odin staggered away from Linus and looked at him grimly.<p>

"You lied." he said.

Linus smiled and placed a hand on the king's shoulder. He spoke in a low voice and leaned in towards his ear.

"You forget who we're dealing with." said Linus, "This is Loki's son. His illusions are far superior to his father. Now, I've seen him do this before. He turns himself invisible as a defense mechanism, but he can only hold it up for so long. So I'll open the gate and you walk in, telling him that you've had a change of heart. He'll reveal himself and I'll kill him. Sound good?"

Odin nodded and waited by the gate. Linus spoke to the empty shell.

"Fenrir, your grandfather is here to see you. Don't worry, he can't hurt you. He just wants to talk to you."

The cage remained silent. Linus shifted the door and motioned for Odin to go through. He did so and limped towards the cot. Without any hesitation, Linus clasped shut the entrance and sealed it. Odin spun around and began pounding at the window, but the material was not penetrable. He cursed and spat at Linus, but Linus only grinned and dangled the keys in front of the king's reddening face.

"Listen to me closely." said Odin - his rage simmering and his voice growing dark, "You may think what you're doing is heroics – that you're helping a friend, but you are condemning this kingdom. You are blindly unaware of the brutality and power lurking inside that boy. He is not the docile pup that you've led yourself to believe. Once he is free – once he is strengthened and confident – he will bring about the downfall of this House."

"Don't play the victim, Odin. It doesn't look good on you."

"I will have you burned for you insolence."

Linus turned his back and began walking towards the exit.

"I'll be waiting, your majesty.


	11. Chapter 11

"Fenrir, you in there?"

Linus continued knocking at the door nervously until Fenrir opened it, purely to stop the noise. He stumbled in and ran a hand over his scalp. He noticed the trash bin full of shards and a bloodied towel. He glanced back at Fenrir and took in the poorly adjusted bandages and crippled tail.

"What the hell did you do to yourself?" he asked.

"It's nothing."

"Well, you look awful."

"Thanks, I'm aware of that. I was just trying to look a little more…refined."

"Refined? All you need to look refined is to wear nice clothing. That's all people look at, you know?"

"Well, I think a deformed prince may be a little distracting."

"What's wrong with the way you look? I mean, now it's distracting because you obviously don't know how to use a razor."

"Look, it's all okay. I found this."

Fenrir pulled out a golden mask laced with intricate swirls. A long beak dropped down from the center, completely hollowed inside for his snout. Linus held the object in his hand and pondered over it.

"Isn't this just going to draw in the same amount of attention?"

"No, a lot of royal figures have worn this type of thing. And my father can tell the people I'm a burn victim if they question the matter further."

"Well, I just came back from speaking with your father and he said you didn't want any more tricks, so why are you now piling them on?"

"I just wanted to lessen the shock value."

"Tonight Loki is going to reveal that his long lost son has been locked in the basement for fourteen years. Shock value will be pretty high."

"I know, I know. But…" his brows furrowed, "Fourteen years?"

"Yeah, you know, Loki brought you here when you were seven."

"What? No, no, I was born here."

Linus took pause and pursed his lips. His head rolled back followed by an exasperated sigh. "Please tell me, they didn't lie to you about that."

"What lie?"

"When they gave me this job, they said that you were brought here at seven, but your memory was bad. Something about a traumatic incident. They didn't say what. I thought they'd fill you in or at least you'd remember that much."

"All my childhood memories revolve around this place." Fenrir said, "Who exactly told you this?"

"I don't know, it was a couple years ago. I think it was the queen."

"Did she say anything more?"

"Just that you were docile, but to be – to be cautious."

Fenrir backed into his bed and steadily sank into the carpet. His legs curled up and he rested his chin on trembling elbows. Linus sank beside him and stared at the ceiling. His arm twitched as he attempted to place it around the pitiful creature at his side. He held it in the air for a moment before silently shifting his weight and running the hand through his own thinning hair instead.

"So they not only caged me up out of shame." said Fenrir, "But because I'm also a threat."

"You're not a threat."

"This is why I need to cover myself up from now on. I know I can find some gloves and the royal garb can conceal the tail if I get a larger size."

"You're not going to cover yourself up for them. So you look a little bit like a wolf. Who the hell cares?"

"Apparently, my entire family." He wiped his eyes on his arm. "Do you think I'm a threat?"

Linus hesitated and played with the hem of his coat. "I think you're just an ordinary guy who's too hard on himself. And I'm part of that reason. I'm sorry."

"Then why did you make me wear the leash?"

"Appearances. So Odin wouldn't strangle me for letting you roam free."

Muffled chatting filled the silence and rumbled up through the floors. The day was oddly bright – the sky a crisp blue. Green gems sat in the center of the windows and reflected a soft light throughout the room. Even the echo of chimes could be heard from the balcony. It was pleasant, but somehow it didn't feel natural – like a daydream on the bridge of collapsing.

"I've been an ass to you since we met." said Linus.

"I know."

"I mean it. I'm sorry. For everything. But, you know something?" he stared the creases in his palms. "You're the closest friend I have."

Fenrir scoffed. "You really see me as your friend?"

"Well, yeah."

"You really are an ass sometimes."

"I guess I thought everyone would take me seriously if I acted tough, but it was never real. Most of it anyway. Truth is, I only took this job for the room and board." He laughed at this. "Pretty pathetic, huh?"

"Thanks." Fenrir said.

Linus stood and picked up the mask on top of the dresser. He stared at it for a few moments and tossed it into Fenrir's lap.

"It's okay if you're not comfortable yet. But when the time comes, these people – _your_ people – aren't going to look at you and see the abnormalities that you think you have. They're going to see someone who's kind and practical."

"They're going to look past the fact that I look like I belong in the woods?"

"Hey, to me you look like Fenrir. And that's what they'll see too. When you're ready."

Another knock sounded at the door which Linus took the liberty of answering. Loki stood in the archway with his hands behind his back and his head peering over his shoulder.

"Isn't it a little dangerous to be walking around like that?" asked Linus.

"No one comes up here so I'd say I'm quite safe." He strolled into the room and began glancing around. "Besides, I wouldn't want to give you a heart attack. You may not realized this Linus, but you're rather jumpy."

"Maybe if people would stop rising from the dead, I'd be able to relax."

"Well, life and death aren't that simple, I'm afraid." Loki moved forward and raised an eyebrow at Fenrir's dismantled appearance. He played with a ring in his hand and tossed it around before turning back to Linus. "Now, if don't mind I'd like to speak to my son alone."

Linus shifted himself to the side. He gave Fenrir one last glance – a meaningful nod, and slipped out the entrance. Loki continued pacing about the room. His left leg still had a limp and dragged slightly after his right. He brushed the arm of the wooden bench sitting underneath the window and sat down.

He glanced over at the gold mask Fenrir was fidgeting with. His son would not look up at him. Instead he only grasped at the bristles of hair and raw flesh on his chin. He looked absolutely dreadful.

Loki parted his dried lips to speak, but held his tongue. He hunched over and held his ring into the light. The afternoon sun leaped off the humble stone and swam across the back of his hand.

He left the window and knelt down in front of his son. He gently pulled his arm and placed the ring into his palm. Fenrir studied the object. It appeared fragile sitting beneath the shadow of his crooked claws.

"I was going to give this to your mother." Loki said. "But she left before I could. Nothing but a note to prove she was ever there."

"I thought she passed away."

"She did. Eventually she returned, we had you, and then she was gone. It happened all too fast."

"Why didn't you give her the ring when she came back?"

"Because I knew she wouldn't stay." His eyes panned down to the stone. He took Fenrir's hand and curled it over the ring. He pressed his palm over his knuckles and looked into his son's eyes. "I want you to take this and know that she loved you. Now please, keep it safe and in your possession. Alright?"

"Alright."

"Your grandmother gave this to me. I didn't even admit to her my feelings for Angrboda, but somehow she knew. She told me that this ring had been in her family for centuries and that it was quite special. So not only is a piece of you mother, it's a piece of Frigga.

"Now, if Odin should return, I need you to hang onto this ring and go up to the bridge. Speak with Heimdall and he will take you to Midgard. Once there, you need to find your uncle. He'll watch over you until it's safe to return to Asgard."

"Should I be that concerned? Enough to escape to a different realm?"

Loki kept eye contact, but something in his throat seemed to tremble.

"Odin is a foolish old man past his prime, but let's just say I've pushed him into a dark place."

"How will Thor believe me? We haven't exactly bonded."

"Show him the ring. He'll remember it. Unlike me, my brother has quite the gracious and forgiving heart." Loki smirked at this. "Of course, you may have to search for him. Heimdall can place you in the vicinity, but he's always jumping around with his band of brightly dressed bastards."

"Maybe if I just talk to Odin…"

Loki laughed bitterly, "Trying to talk sense into Odin is like swimming under a waterfall. You keep trying to lift your head, but it continues to beat you down until you wonder if drowning wouldn't be that bad of a way to go." He glanced back up – his face turned to lead, "You saw what he did to you. Best not to tempt fate."


End file.
